Run Down and Out of Town

Okay folks, I am back. No problem. No more crying over spilt men. I know you were worried and missed your daily jolt of Ima, but don't you fret none, I am right here. I am back and ready to do my job - make you feel better about yourself and your own life. And how do I do that? By simply sharing mine. So, with that said, let's do some Ima sharing, shall we? Alrighty then.

Well, I went to see my old chiropractor the other day. He's big and jolly and we make a good doctor -patient team: I go in - I make him laugh - he hurts me - I leave. I was actually excited to see him after a year and a half. So, I get to the office and find myself greeted by the staff with, "Oh, it's YOUUUUU...". Then out comes Pete (that's my doctor). He looks straight at me and starts to laugh. "Ho,ho, ho, oh, oh, (jiggle jiggle), hardyharhar, ohhhhhmy." He's shaking his head. He can't believe I am back in B.F., New York (no, those REALLY are the initials). "What happened?" he asks, "Did you lose a bet or something?" I quite calmly respond, "Yeah, actually, you could say that." Then I went in to his room, we hugged, I made him laugh, he hurt me, and I left. Ahhh, some things never change. Oh what? Did you think I was going to say something bad about old Pete? Did you want me to say something bad about old Pete? Well, I won't do it, dog gone it! Shame on you for even asking.

Now, this next guy is a different story. See, I also went to see the pharmacist that same day. Now, I don't have a relationship with this guy at all, so I will let you have it full on. You should know that I have terrible allergy headaches that are very similar - pain-wise - to migraines. The problem is that if I take any kind of stimulant to ward off the headaches, I can't sleep. If I can't sleep, I become a NUTBAG! On the other hand, if I take something that makes me the least bit drowsy, I can't get out of bed for days. If I take nothing, I suffer not only the severe headaches but also swollen glands, a sore throat, hoarseness, burning eyes and chest, a slight cough, and dizziness. (What was that? Yeah, well, you're not exactly Jack Le Lane, so stuff it). Anyways, what the heck can I do? Well, the obvious isn't an option - I have to stay clean and sober for a while longer - so, I went to see the pharmacist. I went in and asked a very friendly young woman if she had any idea of what I could take for my situation. She couldn't find anything. When I asked her about talking to the pharmacist on duty, she gave me a strange look. Then she told me, in hushed tones, that he was a little nuts. She said that the last time she asked him a medical question, he ranted and raved for fifteen minutes and then told her to buy new pots and pans. "Hmmmm...." I said. "Hmmmm...." I said again (because I was pondering). Then, I told her I would take my chances, seeing that I was desperate and all (and you are obviously not going to be very supportive). So, I goes up to the counter, see, and over 'gullumps' this large, very white, old man with Mad Scientist hair, Droopy Dog jowls, and a thick Eastern European accent (I don't know which one). I start to tell him my predicament. He is all over me within seconds, ranting and raving, and even accusing me of interrupting and lying. After about fifteen minutes of this abuse, I state that I have to leave. He then catches my attention by stating that there is only one solution and, do I want to hear it? Well, I dare say I do. So, when I ask what that is, he bellows, "MOVE! Just move! Get out of the house!! Leave this place!!!" I felt like I had wandered into a scary movie and was being threatened by the ghost of a man who had died there-apparently from allergies! I wasn't sure what to say, so I just improvised with, "Move? Okay, well, yeah, no, okay, great then. Uh-huh. Okay. Ummm.. Thank you, " and I walked away. What else could I do?

And you heard the man - I had to move! So, I packed my bags and left that crazy town and a little thing called love and now I am here. Where? As promised, I am in my state's capital (no, it's not New York City. You probably think I need a passport to go to New Mexico, too, don't you? Geesh!!) with my Jewish G-ma. She's a dear. There are a couple of things you should know about her up front, though: 1) She likes to tell people about me and my problems while I am right there- and she usually fabricates anywhere from 50-100% of it. She talks about me to the waitstaff, check-out clerks at the supermarket, her dentist, her home aid, all her physicians, including the one that cleans the fungus out from under her toe nails, and anyone else she comes into contact with and 2) She doesn't let me sleep in EVER.

Some of you may remember that I took a train trip with her across Canada a few years back whereby she told everyone on that train- and I mean EVERYONE - that I was "sickly, single, and a waste of musical talent". When I told her that she was negatively impacting my self-esteem by introducing me that way, she just laughed and reminded me that it was true. It was hard to argue with her; besides, it wouldn't have made a bit of difference.

So, I wasn't surprised when we went for dinner the first night here in Albany (yes, that's the capital, thank you) and she told the Pizza girl that I couldn't eat anything on the menu because I was on so many medications. I was aghast. Not just because she told her that, but because it's not even true.??? Then, we were at the supermarket buying earplugs and she tells the check out girl that I need earplugs because I have so many health problems and I am too sensitive to sleep. The clerk looked at me like, "And why do I care?" I just gave her the same helpless, "She followed me here" look that I give everyone she talks to in my presence. This has happened three other times so far: with two other waitresses and one spa receptionist. Please don't make me recall.

The first night here she said to me that I looked very tired and that I should "sleep in" in the morning. I said that sounded great. And, people, I WAS really tired. Now, I know I shouldn't have fallen for this trick. In fact, I suspected it was just a universal gag of sorts because this "sleeping in" thing is not possible. What she does is she comes in my room repeatedly all morning long to "find out" if I am sleeping, which, of course, wakes me up and makes me very, very irritable. The only reason I considered that THIS time I might actually be able to sleep in is that I was going to sleep in the upstairs apartment and she has a lot of trouble getting up the stairs. I thought that this would deter her from checking on me from sun up until I got up. Silly me. Come morning, after a long night of insomnia, she managed to get up those stairs and wake me up by fabricating a tale of how I had told her the night before that I needed to get up early, which I never in my right mind would have said EVER! "Oh, I thought you said that you had to get up early for some reason. Isn't that right?" No, it's not right. I tell her it's not right. Oh, she thought it was. So, then, well, why don't we go out to breakfast then?

The second night, she does the same thing. I tell her I have an appointment at 12:15 pm. I tell her this several times so that she understand that I do NOT need to get up early by any means. I have another restless night and, only a few hours after I fall asleep, she is yelling up the stairs for me to get up because, "You said you have an early morning appointment. Isn't that right?" No, it's not right. I tell her it's not right. Oh, she thought it was. So, then, well, why don't we go out to breakfast then?

Tomorrow my mother is coming and the three of us, God rest my soul, are taking a trip to Lake George. Now we aren't leaving until 4 pm so you can be assured that she will be at the foot of my bed when she gets hungry tomorrow morning to remind me that I had to get up early to do something, "Isn't that right?" At this point you can only imagine what that might be. No, really, unless you are a psychic or something, you don't know. You can guess, though. Go ahead, take a guess. What are you chicken? Fine. Don't guess then.

What? Hmm? Oh, I am sorry, I can't hear you.

Fondly,

Ima N. Dangered